St. Vincent - 20. Chapter 20

December 31, 1796

The two marines from the manger were standing at attention, both of them sweating despite the cool weather, so great was their fear. Jeffers stood next to them, looking a little nervous himself. Granger let them stew for a moment, not because he enjoyed torturing them, but because he was contemplating the plan he was about to set in motion. He knew now that Ramsey was a threat to him, and with his sister-in-law behind him, he was a potent threat indeed. And there was only one way to deal with a threat like that: neutralize it. “Relax, men,” Granger said soothingly. “I have not summoned you to prosecute you.”

“I’m real sorry about that, sir,” one of the marines began, but Granger held up his hand to stop the man. He needed to make sure to give no sign to these men that Jeffers was aware of what happened in the manger.

“I am hoping you have learned your lesson,” Granger stated, although which lesson Granger was alluding to was probably unclear to all of them. Granger himself would have been hard-pressed to say whether he was referring to their sodomy, or to their indiscretion.

“Yes, sir,” the senior marine said, willing to agree to anything just to end this unpleasant encounter.

“I have asked the three of you here because I have an assignment for you, but I do not want you to feel obligated to do it.”

“You give the order, sir,” Jeffers said, “and we’ll do it.”

“I never doubted that for a minute,” Granger said, smiling. “But this is not something I am ordering you to do; it is something I want you to volunteer to do.”

“We’ll do anything you ask, sir,” the senior marine said, and the other nodded in agreement. Granger paused to give them a second to ponder that, and to realize that they’d made a commitment to do as he asked.

“I suspect that my clerk, Mr. Ramsey, has been involved in some malfeasance. I am not sure exactly what that malfeasance would be, but he has given me cause to believe it is a danger to me and possibly to this ship.” Granger suspected that Jeffers would know of Ramsey’s letter from Winkler, but then again, he knew he could trust Winkler, and he probably wouldn’t tell Jeffers without Granger’s permission. Unless Jeffers was the one who found it in the first place? This whole ordeal was too Byzantine to comprehend.

“What would you have us do, sir?” Jeffers asked, as was his place as the senior among the men.

“I am going to send Ramsey ashore shortly. I want you to go ashore as well, and follow him. I am assuming that you know how to do that?” Granger knew that one of the marines, Lamb, had been a cut-purse prior to going to sea, so he should know how to remain inconspicuous in a crowd.

“I can do that sir,” Lamb said, just as Granger hoped he would.

“Thank you, Lamb. If you catch him doing something contrary to the articles of war, arrest him on the spot,” Granger said. “There is one more thing.”

“Sir?”

“It is quite possible that he will be engaged in an act similar to that which I caught you two performing,” Granger said to Lamb. “I wanted to make sure you have no compunctions about arresting him under those circumstances.” Both marines swallowed nervously, while Jeffers just looked confused.

“Not at all, sir,” Lamb said. “We owe you our lives.” That much was certainly true: he and Gatling could have testified at their court martial and there would have been no question of the verdict.

“Thank you, men,” Granger said. “I will summon Mr. Ramsey, then, and you may go ashore in the gig with him.” Jeffers understood that to also be his order to get the gig lowered and ready.

“Aye aye sir,” they chimed in unison, and left his cabin. Granger passed the word for Ramsey, who appeared quite quickly. He looked at Granger with a lustful expression, one that Granger had responded to before, but now that he knew of the man’s duplicity, he just felt revolted by it. Granger forced himself to be at his most stoic.

“You sent for me, sir?” Ramsey asked, as he stood in front of Granger’s desk.

“I did. I ordered some shirts for myself and some uniforms for Mr. Gatling from this tailor,” Granger said, handing the name and address of the man to Ramsey. “I would like you to go ashore and settle my account with him. The gig is waiting for you.”

He saw a brief smile flicker across Ramsey’s face, but he hid it fast enough. He was excited about going ashore. “Aye aye sir,” he said, and then a mere nod from Granger sent the man on his way.

Winkler appeared as soon as he had gone. “What do you think they’ll find, sir?”

“I think they will find Mr. Ramsey having an indiscrete liaison,” Granger noted dourly. “I am going up on deck.” He went up to the quarterdeck, ignoring the other officers, and stood near the stern, allowing his eyes to gaze forward and take in the state of Belvidera’s rigging. Clifton had done well: they would be ready to leave tomorrow on the morning tide.

Satisfied with their progress, he began to pace the deck, wearing his body out physically so that it matched his emotions. He was stunned by Ramsey’s betrayal, stunned and saddened. He’d grown to like the young man, and had certainly found him attractive. Granger paused amid this walk of self-flagellation to at least give himself credit for having good instincts, and for following them. Something had told him that Ramsey was dangerous, and his internal voice had kept him from fucking his clerk even when his body had craved it. But what was Ramsey’s game? He was clearly working for Granger’s sister-in-law, but why? What did she have on him, or what inducement was she offering him, such that he would act like this? Or was he just doing it for his own amusement?

Even more important, why was his sister-in-law doing this in the first place? What were her motives? Surely she would not want to create a scandal by denouncing him publicly as a sodomite. She was part of their family, and such a scandal would be damaging to the family in the extreme. As sinister as she obviously was, Granger was not prepared to believe she had abandoned all of the values that she, as an aristocrat, should hold dear. He could not believe that she would not put the family first. If that was so, what was her end game? Granger labored over it for a long time, until he had fretted himself nearly to madness. He desperately needed a diversion, so he found it in the most logical place of all: he distracted himself by immersing himself in Belvidera’s affairs. In fact, he’d so absorbed himself in their repairs, in helping Clifton get them done, that he was genuinely surprised when the gig hooked on. From the sound of all the noise over the side, there must be quite a bit of commotion from inside the boat.

Jeffers hailed for a bosun’s chair, and then had himself and Ramsey swung aboard. Ramsey was clearly beside himself. He looked like a caged lion, his head and eyes moving back and forth in an almost psychotic state, as if looking for a means of escape. “Explain yourself,” Granger said to Ramsey.

Ramsey said nothing, just stared at him, his mouth open, so Jeffers chimed in. “We found him with two of the Spanish officers, sir. He was stripped naked and tied up, and they was taking turns buggering him. Looked to be enjoying himself main well until we broke up their party.” Jeffers sneered at Ramsey, which was clearly an act.

“That’s a lie!” Ramsey cried.

“Who else saw this?” Granger demanded.

"I did, sir,” Lamb said. “I saw it just as Jeffers described it.”

“I did too, sir,” the other marine said.

Ramsey looked around, his demeanor once again that of a man who was desperately trying to escape. “Take him below,” Granger ordered. “He is to be kept in chains, and is to speak to no one.”

“Aye aye sir,” Clifton said, motioning to the marine lieutenant that was in charge now that Somers was gone. They hauled Ramsey below, kicking and screaming, while the hands watched with amusement, nothing more, nothing less. Apparently Ramsey had not been all that popular.

“Mr. Gatling!” Granger called.

“Sir?”

“You will go through Mr. Ramsey’s quarters and bring me all of his personal papers. We will see if his foul soul was up to other mischief.”

“Aye aye sir,” Gatling said, and dashed below.

“Who were these Spanish officers?” Granger asked Jeffers. Jeffers named two of Don Jacobo’s lieutenants. Both of them were very handsome men; it was all Granger could do to control his reaction at the thought of them fucking Ramsey.

“They were a bit taken aback,” Jeffers said, grinning. “Don Jacobo heard the commotion and appeared from his quarters. He said to convey his apologies to you for the conduct of his officers, and to tell you that he would not object to them being tried by an English tribunal, sir.” Jeffers said those words carefully, and the syntax was clearly not his, so Granger knew he must have taken pains to memorize Stuart’s exact words.

“So he is willing to serve them up to a court martial,” Granger mused. Don Jacobo was clearly embarrassed by the whole matter, and was willing to sacrifice these two officers to end it. Granger pondered the analogy of their situations: both he and Stuart were sodomites who were willing to sacrifice subordinates to save their own skin.

“He seemed to only wish that the matter would go away, sir,” Jeffers said.

Granger nodded, and then went below to his cabin. Gatling arrived shortly after he did, carrying a parcel of letters. “I found these, sir. Most of them appear to be copies of letters he’d already sent.”

“Thank you, Mr. Gatling,” Granger said, smiling at the handsome young midshipman. Gatling left Granger to read through the stack of letters, although when Granger was done, he was no more enlightened than he had been before he started reading. Ramsey had kept detailed records of his encounters with Granger, and had reported these to his sister-in-law in meticulous detail. Still, there was nothing here to incriminate Granger. All it spoke of was Ramsey’s lust for him, and of Davina’s desire to catch him in the act. Granger was of a mind to have Ramsey tried and hanged on the spot, but one thing dissuaded him. There was no mention in any of the letters of Granger’s liaisons with anyone else, potential or real. There were no references to Calvert, which should surely have shown up in Ramsey’s epistles. He hadn’t done anything with Calvert that Ramsey could have seen, or known about, but there was already talk about the two of them, and Ramsey could have fueled the fire about Calvert’s less-than-discreet liaison with Estabrook. Granger thought about Ramsey’s letters, and decided that the damage could have been far worse.

Then another thought flashed through Granger’s mind. It was possible that he had sent her different letters describing those things, letters that he hadn’t bothered to copy. Granger discounted that possibility. Ramsey had been too meticulous, and his records too organized, to have done that. Granger fancied he was the type of man who would either keep everything or nothing at all. Granger was convinced that he’d seen everything.

Having completed his review of Ramsey’s papers, Granger decided that the only way to get any real answers was to confront the man himself, as painful as that would be for both of them. “Pass the word for Mr. Clifton!” Granger shouted. When Clifton appeared, Granger ordered him to have Ramsey brought back to him. He would have to go report to Nelson, and explain this whole ridiculous affair to him. He would have to tell the commodore that a member of his staff had gone ashore to host an orgy with Spanish prisoners, and had been caught by a detail from his own ship. He would have to incriminate two of Don Jacobo’s officers in the affair too, and hope that Nelson opted to keep the incident quiet to save those men’s reputations. At least he didn’t have to worry about what the Spanish would think of a court martial. This time, they’d be even more embarrassed than he was, since their perpetrators were officers, while the English miscreant was merely a clerk.

There was a knock at the door of his cabin, then the door opened, ushering in not Ramsey, as Granger had ordered, but a very worried Clifton. “Sir, Mr. Ramsey is dead.”

“Dead?” Granger asked, amazed.

“Yes, sir,” Clifton said. “He used the chains to strangle himself.”

Granger just stood there, dumbfounded, while he and Clifton both digested the situation. So Ramsey couldn’t stand the thought of being tried for sodomy, and probably couldn’t stand the thought of facing Granger. Instead, he’d just hastened the inevitable end. He’d died from strangulation brought on by his chains, rather than that brought on by the noose. “We will give the body a Christian burial,” Granger said.

“Aye aye sir,” Clifton said.

“Please ready my gig,” Granger ordered, dismissing Clifton. He went into his main cabin to find Winkler waiting for him, looking worried. “I’ll need my dress uniform.” He said it curtly, a signal to Winkler that he didn’t want to talk about Ramsey.

“Yes sir,” Winkler said, reading his mood perfectly. “I’ve already laid it out.” Winkler helped Granger dress, then followed him up on deck and saw him over the side, much as a mother would do when her son was going off to the sea for the first time.

“Damnable affair,” Clifton observed to Winkler as they stood watching Granger set off in the gig.

“Yes, sir,” Winkler agreed, and then scurried back to the captain’s cabin. He didn’t want to speculate with the officers about this whole thing, and he certainly would never betray the captain’s trust by talking about it.

Granger sat stoically in his gig as Jeffers guided it toward the shore. He was sad and frustrated. He was sad that Ramsey was dead, even though he knew that he himself was most responsible for his demise. He tried to block out the times he’d enjoyed Ramsey’s company, and the times he’d lusted after his cute body. But he was even more frustrated, frustrated that he didn’t know why Ramsey was doing this, and more frustrated still that he had no clue as to what was driving his sister-in-law to try and entrap him. His disturbed thoughts were finally interrupted when he arrived at the pier.

There was no greeting party, not that Granger had expected one. Granger used the walk to Nelson’s house to clear his mind, and to frame his report to the commodore.

He found Lockyer guarding the access to Nelson. “I need to see the commodore,” Granger said, his tone letting the midshipman know it was important.

“Yes, sir,” Lockyer replied. “Let me advise him that you are here.” He vanished through the doorway and came back shortly. “He will see you now.” Granger followed Lockyer into Nelson’s office.

“Granger! I didn’t expect to see you until you returned from Spain!”

“Yes, sir,” Granger said, smiling weakly, and then the smile vanished. “There was an incident that I needed to apprise you of.”

“Indeed?”

“My clerk came ashore to run some errands for me, and while he was here had a liaison with two of the Spanish officers.”

“A liaison?” Nelson asked, wanting clarification.

“Mr. Ramsey was buggered by the two Spaniards, sir.”

“That would definitely be a liaison,” Nelson replied, but said no more.

“Don Jacobo is aware of the incident, but we have not arrested the two Spaniards, sir.”

“Well we’ll have to if we’re to try this clerk of yours,” Nelson decreed.

“That won’t be necessary, sir. Mr. Ramsey took his own life.”

“I see.”

“I’m not sure how you would want to handle this, sir,” Granger said. “Mr. Ramsey was posted to Belvidera under the direction of Lord Spencer. It would perhaps be in his best interest if I wrote a confidential report to you and him about Mr. Ramsey, and let him decide what to do about it.” Some commanders would be annoyed at having a course of action placed before them, but Granger knew that Nelson was willing to listen to suggestions, at least until he’d made up his own mind.

“What of the Spaniards?”

“I am not sure that we need to worry about them, sir.” Granger paused to let Nelson think about that, and then verbalized his own rationale. “The only Englishman involved in the crime is dead from his own hand. It seems to me that we could let Don Jacobo and the Spanish settle this matter in their own way once we return them to Spain.”

“You mean leave the headache to Stuart?” Nelson asked, smiling.

“That was what was on my mind, sir,” Granger agreed, smiling back.

“When are you leaving for Spain?”

“On the morning tide, sir,” Granger said.

“You’ve gotten Belvidera re-rigged so quickly?”

“Yes, sir,” Granger answered, the pride in his voice apparent.

"Nicely done. I’ll want you to take him as close to Cartagena as you can, but it is a goodly distance, and I need you back here by the 20^th of January to help escort the transports. Your orders will allow you to go as far toward Cartagena as you can in ten days, then you must turn around and return here.”

“And if we can’t make it to Spain, sir?”

“Then you will have to land them in France,” Nelson said callously, then modified his tone. “Do your best to get them back to Spain.”

“Yes sir.”

“Since you will need to meet with Stuart and inform him that he is leaving, I will let you work out this matter with his officers directly. Submit your report on the matter to me, and I will enclose a cover letter and forward it on to His Lordship.”

“Aye aye sir,” Granger said. He stood up and doffed his hat, then took his leave of the commodore. He walked the short distance to the home containing the Spanish prisoners. The tension, the feeling of doom and disgrace, was evident as soon as Granger entered. He was greeted by a very agitated Don Jacobo.

“Welcome, Capitan,” he said cordially. “I fear we have a dilemma on our hands.”

“Thank you, señor,” Granger said politely. “I have come to inform you that we will leave on the morning tide, and to invite you and your officers to re-board Belvidera at your convenience.”

“All of us? And what is to happen to my two disgraced officers,” Stuart said with a sneer. “Will we hang them on board?”

“I had not planned to,” Granger said. “Mr. Ramsey took his own life while under arrest. As he was the only Englishman involved in this matter, Commodore Nelson has decided that he will leave it to you and His Most Catholic Majesty to prosecute your officers as you see fit.”

“Will this incident be made public?”

Granger smiled to himself. No one really wanted to bring these cases out in the open. “I have written a report for our First Lord, and Commodore Nelson is going to forward it to him confidentially. While I cannot be sure, I think it is unlikely that His Lordship would want to make this a public affair.”

Stuart paced up and down the room, a habit Granger knew well. The joys of pacing a quarterdeck were never fully appreciated by landsmen. “If it would be alright with you, I would prefer to act as if this incident never occurred. That will, I think, make our voyage more pleasant. When we return to Spain, I will handle these men myself.” Granger remembered seeing Stuart fuck Ramsey on Christmas, and wondered at what he would do to the other officers as punishment. He had to distract himself lest he get so hard his erection showed through his breeches.

“That is acceptable to me,” Granger agreed.

“We have plans to celebrate the arrival of the New Year here on Elba. If it meets with your approval, we will board your ship at dawn. You are of course welcome to join us,” Don Jacobo said.

“I must thank you for your kind offer, señor,” Granger said. “I fear we have much to do aboard, and I had planned to host a dinner for my officers.” Besides, the last thing Granger wanted to do was spend time with the two Spanish lieutenants whose lives were now possibly ruined. Granger took his leave of Stuart and went back to his ship to craft his reports and to ensure that the final preparations for their departure were complete.

January 1, 1797

They were all quiet, waiting for the ship’s bell to chime. When it did, they all let out a raucous cheer. “Happy New Year!” Granger said, hoisting his glass to the table in general, around which his officers were gathered. Most of them, Granger included, were fairly inebriated.

“Hear hear!” came the rowdy accolades. From deep in the bowels of the ship he could hear the men cheering as well.

“It may not be one of our smoother departures from port in the morning, sir,” Clifton said. He was not inebriated, and in fact, he wasn’t intoxicated at all. Granger worried that the duties of first lieutenant were weighing heavily on him.

“We will do just fine, Mr. Clifton,” Granger said soothingly, with a bit of a slur. “I’d like to take this opportunity to tell you how impressed I am with the job you are doing.” He was conscious that the others had gotten quiet, to listen to his words.

“Thank you, sir,” Clifton said, blushing.

“It is not every junior lieutenant who can handle being thrown into such a position of responsibility, and who can coordinate a battle and an extensive refit at the same time.”

“Hear hear!” Meurice said, and they lifted their glasses to salute their first lieutenant. Clifton was stunned at such an overt display of approbation from these men who served him, and found himself speechless, but only for a few moments. Then he got a mischievous grin on his face.

“Mr. Meurice’s presence here, sir, reminds me of another junior lieutenant who did that and much more, and managed to sail an entire fleet back to England from the Mediterranean.” They all laughed at Clifton’s comment, even though there was admiration in their eyes.

“It was merely a long pleasure cruise,” Granger joked, deflecting the praise. They laughed more.

“Not in the Atlantic, begging your pardon, sir,” Meurice said. “The ship leaked so badly, we are lucky we did not founder.”

“And that is why, Mr. Meurice, the Commerce de Marseilles makes for a lovely receiving ship in Portsmouth,” Granger joked.

“Not all French ships are built so badly, sir,” Meurice observed. “This one is as good a frigate as I have seen.”

“That she is, Mr. Meurice,” Clifton agreed. They all paused to appreciate the vessel that they had experienced so much success with. “To the Belvidera!” Clifton said, hoisting his glass.

“The Belvidera!” they all chimed, and drank yet more wine. About an hour later, Clifton looked purposely at his watch.

“If you will excuse me, sir, I want to make sure we are ready to depart at dawn.”

“By all means, Mr. Clifton,” Granger agreed. The other officers took the hint and filed out after him, all except Gatling, who lingered behind. When he finally pulled himself up from his chair, he was a bit unsteady. He staggered into a bulkhead and caught himself.

“I’m sorry, sir,” he said sheepishly.

Granger walked over to him and put his arm around his shoulder to steady him. “It is quite alright, Mr. Gatling. I am not so much better off than you are.”

Gatling nodded, then looked away from Granger quickly, but not quick enough to hide the tear that fell down his cheek. Granger gently reached for his chin and pulled his face around so their eyes met. Granger’s eyes were dry and clear, while Gatling’s were moist, full of more tears ready to fall. And in a flash, those looks transformed into something entirely different. In a flash, those looks were replaced by lust. “If I can help you, I will,” Granger said softly. “You can talk to me.”

Gatling shook himself, the emotional effort so extreme it was almost physical. “Thank you, sir. I’m sorry. I don’t need to bother you with my problems. I’ll let you get some rest.”

Granger sensed his mood, and knew what he and Gatling both needed. He also knew that he would have to be the one to initiate it. He let his own body overwhelm all the barriers that had been built between them. He pushed Gatling back against the bulkhead with his body, forcing the contact between their chests and their groins, where Granger could feel Gatling’s hard member pressing against his own. “Perhaps you are too drunk to make it back to your berth,” Granger whispered in his ear, as he moved his body subtly against Gatling’s, rubbing against him. “Perhaps you would like to stay here, with me, instead?”

The young man moaned softly and thrust back against him, surrendering to Granger’s advances. Granger backed away and smiled at him, washing away the nervous look that Gatling gave him, then took his hand and led him to his cabin. Granger was prepared for a more passive young man, one that would follow his lead, but that was dispelled as soon as he shut the cabin door. Gatling turned and all but lunged at him, wrapping his body around Granger’s, and pressing their lips together.

Granger felt himself let out a guttural moan as he returned the kiss, and amplified it. Gatling ended the kiss with a smile, and then pushed Granger onto his cot. He stood there in front of Granger and began to take off his uniform in a most seductive way. Piece by piece his clothing came off, while Granger just stared at him with wide-eyed lust. Gatling removed his shirt, showing off his well-developed adolescent chest. When he raised his arms, Granger could see the ample patches of brown hair under his arms, and the sensual way the candlelight played across his chest. Unable to resist, Granger reached forward and ran his hand across Gatling’s chest, pausing to tweak his nipples, and then let his hand fall gently downward across Gatling’s abdomen. When he made to go lower, Gatling backed away, giving Granger a coquettish look. He pulled at the drawstring of his breeches and began to lower them, exposing the upper part of his pubic hair, reveling in the total attention Granger was giving his body, and then pulled them lower, allowing his erect dick to flop out. Granger giggled when it popped out because, like many young men, when Gatling was erect, his dick pointed almost straight up. It slapped against his abdomen.

Granger reached forward and gently touched Gatling’s cock, letting just his fingertips run across it. It was smaller than Granger’s, probably between five and six inches in length, but a little thicker than what Granger perceived to be the norm. It was a stunning contrast, to see a tall, lithe young man with a shorter, thicker, penis. “Beautiful,” Granger said.

“Sir, sir!” Gatling said urgently. Granger smiled, recognizing the signs, the signs of a young man about to have an orgasm. He quickly moved forward and absorbed Gatling’s dick in his mouth, just as the young midshipman exploded, blasting his copious load down Granger’s throat. “I’m sorry, sir,” Gatling said when he was done. “That was too soon.”

“It is not over yet, Mr. Gatling,” Granger said. He stood up and pulled the rest of Gatling’s clothes off of him, then pushed the smiling midshipman onto his bunk. Then he got up and disrobed, although a lot less seductively than Gatling. That didn’t seem to bother the midshipman at all. As soon as Granger’s breeches were down, Gatling leaned forward and inhaled his cock. Granger wanted to take his time with this exquisite young man, but his body had been deprived of attention for so long, and Gatling was so incredibly sexy, that Granger couldn’t hold back. He grabbed Gatling’s head and began to thrust into his mouth, taking care not to choke him. The young man’s mouth accepted his penetration willingly, and when Granger shot his load, Gatling swallowed his seed like a starving man eats a mutton pie.

Granger collapsed onto the cot, so spent was he that his legs were quivering. Gatling sat next to him, smiling down at him. He seemed to feel uncomfortable, then. “I should go, sir,” he said.

“You should stay,” Granger said. “I told you it’s not over yet.”

“Good,” Gatling said, and wrapped his naked body around Granger’s.